


The Moment Never Lasts

by shadow_lover



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bittersweet, Established Relationship, Extra Treat, Light Angst, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Original Mythology, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 01:02:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9692786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadow_lover/pseuds/shadow_lover
Summary: Mara wakes cold this time, lying naked on a smooth, hard surface. Eyes closed, he catalogues his state and his surroundings.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [apirateapoetapawn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/apirateapoetapawn/gifts).



> This ship caught my eye out of the blue, so thank you for the request! Happy Valentine's Day :)

His soul scatters, like the stars across the sky—if the stars were smoke and shade instead of flame. He sees nothing, hears nothing, knows nothing except that this is a moment of peace. In these moments, nothing can touch him.

The moment never lasts. He coalesces, as always, into shape and memory.

Mara wakes cold this time, lying naked on a smooth, hard surface. Eyes closed, he catalogues his state and his surroundings. His lungs and heart are whole, and the knife’s gouges gone. His body is gangly and does not ache with age, but his limbs are of useful length. It is the same newly-adult body he died in.

The air is so cold, it stings his nose when he inhales. His nipples pucker. He has returned to the place he died in, and he hears his killer’s footsteps drawing nearer.

He opens his eyes.

The black sanctuary is lit by blue flames. Their light reaches neither walls nor ceiling; rather than illuminate, they reinforce the implacable darkness.

“Sorry about that,” Zesriel says, stepping into the light. “I needed you out of the way for a few hours.”

Mara sits, palms flat on cold marble, and does not wince as more tender parts of him touch marble as well. His new face is still unaccustomed to expression.

Zesriel’s face, meanwhile, is a ballad of emotion. Every line of it a lie, but the melody is irresistible. His smile is brighter than the flames, the only warm thing in Mara’s sanctuary. He bends, and takes Mara’s cold hands in his. He draws him to his feet.

Mara doesn’t let go until he knows his body will remain upright. His heart drums with the reorientation. “Do I want to know what you did in those hours?”

Green eyes glitter. “You really don’t.” He reaches out, and from thin air draws a swathe of dark fabric.

Mara lifts his arms and allows Zesriel to cover him in the robe. The silk is not as smooth as Zesriel’s fingertips on his arms.

“I prefer poison,” Mara says.

Zesriel ties the robe tight around Mara’s waist. “You don't give anyone else the choice.”

Mara looks up, because Zesriel has always preferred to wear tall figures. “It evens out,” he says. “Everyone else doesn’t have to come back.”

He doesn’t know if this too is a lie, but it’s beautiful: the flicker in Zesriel’s smile, and the shadows in his eyes.

Zesriel says softly, “I like when you come back.”

Mara doesn’t like coming back. He likes the stars, and the silence between lives. But if he can’t have the silence, then Zesriel’s kiss is peace enough for now.


End file.
